


And The Little One Says

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Incest, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carver’s still awake when Bethany crawls out of her bed and into his. She knew he would be; he never sleeps on the nights Garrett doesn’t come home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And The Little One Says

Carver’s still awake when Bethany crawls out of her bed and into his. She knew he would be; he never sleeps on the nights Garrett doesn’t come home.

“Ugh, you’re letting the cold in,” he grumbles as she pushes back the covers. “Aren’t we getting a little too old for this, Bethy?” 

Still, he scoots over and makes room for her, same as always.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispers back. She settles herself in the warm cavity Carver’d moved out of, tucking the blankets back in around her. 

Carver sighs one of his heavy, long-suffering sighs. “If you’re gonna sleep here, you better not kick.”

“ _You_ better not snore,” Bethany retorts.

“I don’t _snore,_ ” Carver says, affronted.

“You do,” Bethany says. “Like a pig.” He doesn’t, but _he_ doesn’t need to know that.

Carver sticks his tongue out at her, so Bethany’s forced to press her cold feet to his calf in retaliation, smirking when he yelps.

“Shh,” Bethany says angelically. “Mother’s sleeping.”

Carver glowers at her, then pointedly turns on his other side, facing away.

Bethany groans. He can be such a baby. “Carverrrrr...” 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even respond. Bethany sighs again, sticking out her lower lip in a pout that’s wasted because Carver isn’t even _looking_. Fine, then; he can ignore her all he wants. She can wait. He’s too impatient to keep up the facade of a cold shoulder for long.

She’s right; it’s not long before Carver turns so he’s lying on his back. Most of his face is in shadow, but the moonlight glances off his nose, his cheekbones, enough that Bethany can see the way he’s struggling for words. 

Finally, he whispers, “I hate it when he does this.”

“Mm?” Bethany says, feigning sleepiness. “Does what?”

“You _know_ what,” Carver says. “Every time I find someone who I think, maybe, just _maybe_ , will like me better than him—”

He stops, mouth twisting bitterly. “Never mind. It’s my own damn fault for thinking he wouldn’t take this from me too.”

“Carver,” Bethany says reproachfully. “It’s not about that. It’s never _been_ about that.”

“You _would_ take his side,” he says, purposely misunderstanding, and Bethany rolls her eyes.

“It’s not about taking sides, either,” she says. “You always think it’s about Garrett one-upping you, and it’s not.”

Bethany reaches out to take Carver’s hand. When she twines their fingers together, Carver bites his lip, but doesn’t protest.

She tugs, lightly, and Carver lets her pull him on his side so he’s facing her again. Side-by-side, their noses are only a few scant inches apart. Bethany can almost feel him shaking.

She squeezes his hand. 

“I don’t like it either,” she murmurs. “When you go off with a girl, or when he goes off because he doesn’t want _you_ to go off—”

“I know,” Carver says, suddenly, as if he can’t bear to hear any more. “How sick is it that I’m more jealous of _her_ than I am of—”

His voice cracks with the confession, like it was torn out of him; he cuts himself off, face crumpling. He is trying not to cry, shaking with the effort, and Bethany can’t bear it; she surges forward to kiss his forehead, kiss the mutinous tears where they fall onto his cheeks.

“Oh, Carver,” she whispers, “it’s _alright,_ it’s not sick, it’s alright,” and she cups his cheek with her free hand. 

He shakes his head.

“It’s _not_ alright,” Carver says. “It’s _not_ —” but he crushes his mouth to hers, muffling a whimper against her mouth. She slides her hand behind his head, tangling into his hair, holding him tightly as she can for closeness and comfort.

Tomorrow, Garrett’s going to saunter back home, not bothering to hide the love bites or the bruises. Carver will chafe at the brazen disregard, and Garrett will pretend not to understand why, just like he’ll pretend not to notice when Bethany will refuse to speak to him for days.


End file.
